


10:50 to Cape Wrath

by Persuade_me



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dom!Gendry, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Light BDSM, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persuade_me/pseuds/Persuade_me
Summary: He stayed there, draped around her for a long moment, and she could feel him breathing, his chest expanding, pressing into her back. It was a habit now, whenever they played this game. Taking a moment to center himself, pushing his innate desire to give her whatever she wanted to the back of his mind, letting the dominant side surface. Giving her the opportunity to say no.She never did.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	10:50 to Cape Wrath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weltverbessererin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weltverbessererin/gifts).



> So this was meant to be a Kinktober entry, but you know, life and all. It was inspired by a decidedly NSFW gif that Weltverbessererin shared on the Gendrya discord, so thank (or blame) her for this. 
> 
> Also, the first title I came up with was "Midnight on the Orgasm Express" and as much as I adore how much that amuses me, it really does sound like a porn parody. 
> 
> Thanks to TheReluctantBadger for taking a look for me!

The trees whipped past the window, smears of green and brown on the other side of the rain streaked glass. Arya stood silently, staring blankly at the scenery flying past. She could feel the heat of him, inches away from her back. His head dropped to rest on her shoulder as his arms snaked around her waist.

“‘M’sorry,” he mumbled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin.

Arya didn’t respond. Didn’t trust herself not to yell at him just yet. If he’d just _listened_ to her, they wouldn’t have missed their train. They’d have been at Cape Wrath by now, curled around each other in his old room at the Seaworths. Instead, they’re on the last train of the day, traveling through the night, scheduled to pull into the station at the ungodly hour of four AM. 

Arya hated being late. Hated being an inconvenience. So the fact that their mistake would have Davos or Marya or both dragging themselves out of bed to pick them up before the break of dawn? Well, that was pretty much a worst case scenario for her, despite their reassurances that _really, dear, it’s no problem at all._ Definitely not the way she wanted their first meeting to go, showing up late, exhausted, and irritated with their adopted son. 

As far as she could see, the only plus side to any of this was the fact that they managed to snag a private sleeping compartment, instead of being crowded in with the rest of the passengers, something that neither of them had really been looking forward to. 

Gendry sighed against her neck. “Should’ve listened to you,” he muttered. "You’re so much better at all this than I am.”

Guilt bubbled up through her irritation, washing it away with the insecurity in his voice. It wasn’t often an issue. Not anymore. Not after their years together, but Arya knew it would never completely leave him.

“No, Gendry,” she said, sliding her hands over his and pulling his arms tighter around her waist. “It’s not your fault traffic was shit. I’m sorry for snapping at you like that.”

“But we could have made it if we’d left when you wanted,” he protested quietly.

She couldn’t argue with that. It was the truth, but somehow it no longer mattered. It was his family they were going to see, not hers. His plans that had been disrupted, not hers. If he wasn’t that fussed, then it wasn’t fair for her to be so put out with him. She let out a long sigh and squeezed his hand. 

“It’s all right,” she said earnestly. “If we’d caught that train, we’d be crammed in that coach car with everyone else instead of in here.” She paused, suddenly realizing the unexpected benefits the situation afforded them, and twisted her head back to meet his gaze. “Alone,” she said suggestively. “No one else. Just the two of us. For _hours.”_

Gendry’s breath hitched, and his hands slid away from her waist as he took a step back, the darkness in his eyes apparent even in the dim light. His mouth curved up in a wicked smile, his lecherous expression filling her with an almost certain knowledge of what was coming next. She sucked in a breath, waiting for words she desperately hoped to hear.

“Face forward. Hands on the glass.” The order, because that’s what it was, an order, crashed into her, and Arya gasped in delight, her gut tightening at the way his voice had dropped. Anticipation flooded through her, and she felt her cunt clench involuntarily.

She turned her head and raised her arms immediately, planting her hands against the window that took up half the wall of their compartment. The glass was cold beneath her palms, a stark contrast to the heat emanating off the man behind her. Gendry’s hands settled on her shoulders, squeezed gently, then slid up her arms as his bulky frame wrapped around hers. 

He stayed there, draped around her for a long moment, and she could feel him breathing, his chest expanding, pressing into her back. It was a habit now, whenever they played this game. Taking a moment to center himself, pushing his innate desire to give her whatever she wanted to the back of his mind, letting the dominant side surface. Giving her the opportunity to say no. 

She never did.

Arya let her own breathing slow, synching up with his as her mind slipped into the necessary headspace for what they were about to do. Suppressing her need for control, placing all of her trust in the man behind her, letting everything but him fade away.

After several long moments, he pulled back and exhaled slowly, the air shifting around them as Gendry’s hand settled firmly on her shoulder. His thumb hooked into her collar, gently caressing the side of her neck, and she let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as she leaned into his touch.

Gendry chuckled softly. “You seem to have forgiven me rather quickly,” he said as his fingers traced a line slowly up her neck, brushing softly against her earlobe before sliding back down and around to rest on the top button of her shirt. 

Arya arched her back, lifting up on her toes in an attempt to press her breast into his palm despite knowing it was useless, and just as she knew he would, he drew his hand back and tutted at her.

“Oh no,” he said, leaning in to nip at her neck briefly before exhaling a hot breath against her ear. “You’re not getting it that easy, love.”

Arya groaned as his hand slid back down, gliding underneath the edge of her shirt and into her bra, his fingers teasing her nipple for a moment before withdrawing. “You think you can just say sorry and I’ll immediately get you off?” He tutted again before sucking her earlobe between his teeth and growling, “you’re going to have to beg me to let you come before I’m through with you.”

Heat burned through her, her knees going slightly weak at the way his voice rumbled in her ear, the vibrations reverberating straight to her cunt. “Am I?” she asked breathlessly, arching her head back as his hand wrapped around her throat, the pressure of his fingers making her a little lightheaded.

“Yes. You fucking are.”

A satisfied smile spread slowly across her face. _“Make me.”_

***

If pressed, she wouldn’t have been able to say how it all started. Perhaps it was the time he’d exasperatedly told her to _just hold fucking still already_ , and she’d stubbornly taken him at his word, letting him do whatever he wanted to her. Perhaps it was the time she had mockingly replied _yes, sir_ to something he’d said in bed, and the immediate hitch in his breath had her sitting up in realization that he _really_ liked that. Perhaps it was a multitude of things, the way he liked tying her up, the way she liked him ordering her around, the way they both liked the uncertainty of who really held the power in those situations. 

Whatever it was, the rules were simple. Gendry was in charge. Arya was not. How far he took it varied from time to time. Sometimes it was simply _touch me here, kiss me there, bend over, get on top_ and sometimes it was more _I am going to do whatever the fuck I want to you, and you’re going to thank me for it._

It seemed tonight was the latter.

She was in her bra now, her shirt having been discarded on the floor behind her after an absolutely maddening process that involved Gendry slowly undoing each button then dipping his fingers in to barely brush against her skin before leisurely moving on to the next as if he’d had all the time in the world. 

He’d left her there for a good five minutes, shirt hanging open, bra still on, hands pressed against the glass while he ordered food and drinks to be sent to their cabin, carrying on a casual conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line like she wasn’t standing there absolutely buzzing with need.

“Should be here shortly,” he’d told her once he’d finally hung up the phone, “but it’ll keep til we’re done.” He’d moved behind her, pressing his chest against her back and sliding his hands over her arms to push them down to her sides. Tugging her shirt off, he tossed it behind him before raising her hands to the window again. His hands caressed her stomach and then slid up to brush the sides of her lace covered tits as he mouthed his way down her neck. “Which is a good thing, because I’m planning on taking my time with you tonight.” He hummed in thought. “At least an hour. Maybe two. You think you can last that long?”

She sucked in a breath and nodded, knowing from experience the longer she held out, the more intense her release would be. The prospect of a long, drawn out buildup had her practically salivating with the knowledge of the inevitable.

Gendry huffed. “You think so?,” he said in a tone of mild disbelief before slipping his hand down and dipping it into her waistband, pressing against the front of her already damp knickers for barely a second before pulling it out again, leaving a divine sort of ache behind. 

She waited for him to make another comment, to challenge her, to promise he’d have her begging in no time flat, but he just hummed as his hands grasped her hips, pulling her back flush against his groin. She could feel him thick and hard against her, and she couldn’t help but push back, grinding against him. 

He immediately pulled away from her, his hand smacking her ass as he tsked at her. “Trying to rile me up, are we?” he asked conversationally. “Well, love, that’s not going to work. Not tonight. Tonight, you’re going to stand right here, and you’re going to take whatever I give you. Do you understand?”

She didn’t answer.

Gendry wrapped his hand around her hair and pulled, tilting her head back. Not too hard, experience had taught him the exact amount of pressure to send a jolt of lightning down her spine. He leaned in, lips a breath away from her ear. “Do you understand?”

Arya shuddered, exhilaration roaring through her. “Yes, sir,” she exhaled, feeling a swell of triumph when he pushed forward at her words, his cock hard against her.

“Good girl.” 

He gripped her hips again before sliding one large hand up to tug down the cups of her bra. The cabin was warm enough, but the chill from the window in front of her caused her already pebbled nipples to tighten even more. Arya closed her eyes and sighed at the feel of the cool air against her flushed skin, expecting to feel his hands close over her tits, thumbs toying with her nipples, but it never came.

Instead, he took a step back, and his hands came up to rest against her shoulder blades. “I love your skin,” he said, his fingers stroking gently down her back. “So soft. So beautiful. So… unblemished.” 

He lowered his head and bit down hard on her shoulder then immediately began running his tongue over the spot where she knew his teeth had left marks, soothing it before switching to her other shoulder and repeating his actions, a sting of pain lingering temptingly on her skin. 

“It’s flawless,” he said, nuzzling his head into the crook of her neck and latching on, sucking a dark mark into her pale skin. “Or, it was.” He chuckled darkly. “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be a work of art. Covered in scratches and finger marks and spots just like this one. Marks that show you’re mine.” 

He bent down, slipping a finger underneath the strap of her bra to tug it aside before pressing an open mouthed kiss against her back and sucking hard. She gasped at the feel of him, the heat of his mouth branding another mark on her skin. 

Gendry knelt behind her, hands clumsily fumbling with the hook of her bra for a long moment. His exasperated sigh brought an affectionate smile to her face. Despite the air of confidence he exuded during these times, she loved the fact that he was still her Gendry, that she could still trip him up with a word, a look, and that the simple act of unhooking her bra could sometimes stop him in his tracks. She twisted slightly, glancing back over her shoulder to see his face screwed up in concentration. 

“Need some help?” she teased.

His eyes darted to hers, and he scowled. “Shut it, you.” 

She laughed, but turned back around, an amused smile playing on her lips. After another moment, she felt the fabric release and Gendry let out a small huff of triumph. 

“Oh, well done,” she said, her laugh turning to a yelp at the sharp pinch to her ass. Her yelp morphed into a moan as one of his large hands slid around to grasp between her legs. Her hips bucked into him, and he chuckled.

“I believe I told you to stand there and take it,” he said, sliding his hand up to caress her stomach. 

“You also said you were going to turn me into a work of art,” she retorted cheekily. “And at the moment, I believe I am an unused canvas.”

His hands immediately moved to her abdomen, fingers digging into her flesh. She could feel the blunt edges of his fingernails against her skin as he pulled her closer. On her back, his mouth was everywhere. At the edge of her waistband, underneath the open bra, on her shoulder blades. Everywhere he went, she knew he was leaving marks behind. Within minutes, she was certain to resemble some piece of abstract art, blooms of red and purple scattered across her flushed skin.

He pulled back and hummed admiringly. “If anyone saw this,” he said, “they’d know. They’d know you’re mine. That I’m the only one allowed to touch you like this.” He stood, hands gripping her hips again as he pulled her closer. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he hummed into her ear. “Letting people see my handiwork?” 

Arya sucked in a breath, a wave of heat washing over her. They’d toyed with the idea over the years, sex beneath a wide open window, his hand down her pants in the car, blow jobs in dark corners. Neither of them were keen on full on exhibitionism, but the hint of it, the thrill of someone glimpsing them, the possibility of someone else getting off at the thought of their pleasure? Arya’s body vibrated with the idea.

“They’ll be delivering the food any minute,” he said slowly. “You could let them see if you wanted to.”

Her head snapped around, meeting his eyes over her shoulder. They stared silently at each other for a moment. Gendry was not the possessive type. Not really. He had no need to be. She was his, just as he was hers. But there were times when something primal in him emerged. Some urge that usually manifested in a rare display of alpha male behavior, declaring to the world that Arya Stark was his. 

She’d once thought she’d hate for any partner of hers to behave that way, to proclaim her _their property_ , but with him, it never bothered her. Probably because, on occasion, she was just as guilty as him. 

She stared at him, his eyes dark and his face almost territorial as he looked back. Her head tilted slightly. “Would you like that?” she asked, and he swallowed hard, then nodded. The corners of her lips curved up, and a satisfied warmth blossomed in her chest. “All right then,” she said, dropping her arms from where they were pressed against the glass and letting her bra fall to the floor. “Lights stay off. I’m facing the window, and they stay in the hall.”

He nodded again, and pulled her around so she was facing him. “They’ll only see your back,” he said, drawing her into his arms and kissing her gently. “Nothing else.”

Arya smiled and lifted herself up on her toes to kiss him again. Gendry’s arms tightened around her, and she lost herself in his embrace. It wasn’t until a knock sounded at the door that they finally pulled away from each other, both breathing heavily. 

“Hands on the glass again, love,” he said, pressing one last kiss to the tip of her nose before he moved to the door of their cabin. 

She stared out the window, breath catching in her throat as she watched the trees whizzing past She heard Gendry open the door, take the food from the porter, thank him, and then close it again. It was over so fast, it left her feeling slightly lacking somehow. 

He moved up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m not sure he even noticed,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her shoulder, and Arya felt a strange sort of disappointment rush through her. “Too dark in here.” He took a step back, letting his hand linger on her hip again before sliding it up to grip the back of her neck.

“Now,” he said darkly, “where were we?” And his hands began moving, charting paths over her skin, mapping out the lines of her collarbones, her shoulders, her spine, her ribs. Touching almost every inch of exposed skin. 

He knew how to touch her. How to alternate between firm and soft. Which patterns to draw the ache from her bones. Where to stroke to set her skin alight. He was masterful in his movements, a virtuoso at her body, years of experience pouring out of his fingers and into her.

She was breathing heavily, a delicious thrum pounding through her as his hands danced over her. And yet, apart from a few brushes of his fingers earlier, he’d come nowhere near her tits, deftly avoiding them even as she arched and twisted, trying to coax him, to tease him into grabbing her chest. 

Arya let out a small whine of frustration, and he chuckled, finally sliding his hands over her breasts and squeezing. “Is this what you wanted?” he asked as his fingers pinched the beaded tips of her nipples, the sting producing jolts of pleasure that seemed to shoot straight to her cunt.

She moaned. “Gods, yes.” 

Gendry chuckled and leaned his head on her shoulder, looking down as he twisted his hands, tweaking both her nipples almost painfully, and she moaned again, dropping her head back as he skillfully worked her into a panting, whimpering, needy mess. He took his time. Focusing first on one, then the other. Rolling her nipple between his fingers, pinching it, twisting it, brushing the tip with a feather light touch. When he raised his hand to his mouth, she whimpered at the sensation of the wet pad of his thumb grazing against her pebbled bud, the damp chill of his saliva stark against her burning skin.

“Gods, I love your tits,” he said, as he leaned over her shoulder to blow gently against her dampened flesh, and she whimpered again. “I love the way they feel in my hands. How your nipples tighten up under my fingers. How they move under my tongue.” He sighed and moved his hands to cup both her breasts, kneading her soft flesh. “Never seen any tits as perfect as yours.” 

He shifted his hands, fingers pinching her nipples hard, and she let out a needy squeak. “I love the sound you make when I do that,” he continued. “How you moan when I suck on them. How you cry out when I bite down.” His hands kept moving, plucking and tugging and squeezing and pinching, until Arya thought she might die from the ache between her legs, which was quite the feat considering his hands hadn’t gone anywhere below her waist yet.

“But you know what else I love?” he said, as his hands dropped to her waist, and she felt her breath quicken as his fingers moved to the button of her jeans.

She shook her head, despite knowing fully what his answer would be. 

He undid the button and slid the zipper slowly down. Gendry’s hand slipped underneath and cupped her soaked knickers. “Your cunt,” he breathed against her ear, and she groaned loudly. “Fuck, I love your cunt.” His hand moved lower, nudging aside the silky fabric of her knickers and swiping a finger through her folds, before sliding lower and dipping into her. “So warm and tight and made just for me.”

She felt another finger slide into her, and she moaned again, relishing the stretch, the slight relief it gave her from the ache he’d created. “And so wet too,” he murmured. “Practically dripping. So ready for me, for my cock, aren’t you?”

She ground her hips down, desperate for friction, for movement, for anything to chase away that aching emptiness, but Gendry stilled his hand, drawing his fingers out so that the tips were just barely inside her. 

“Answer me, Arya,” he growled. “You want my cock, don’t you?”

A thrill of frustrated delight ran through her. She loved Gendry like this. Bossy and lewd and in control, drawing out her pleasure until she had no choice but to beg him to stop. But part of her wanted him to stop the teasing and just fuck her already. 

He would stop. She knew he would. One word from her, and he’d flip her around immediately, bury his face between her thighs, and have her screaming his name in seconds. 

She was tempted. Oh, was she tempted, but she also was determined. He’d said he wanted to take his time, and she was going to let him. She swallowed hard and nodded her head. 

“Yes, sir,” she said huskily. “I do want it.” She tilted her hips, sliding herself down his fingers and grinning when he groaned. “Can’t you feel how much I want it? How wet you’ve made me?”

His head turned, kissing a path up her neck as his fingers began thrusting shallowly into her. “Not yet, love,” he breathed, withdrawing his fingers completely and moving them to her hips, tugging her jeans down. 

Her hands were still flat against the window, and as he hadn’t told her to move them yet, she stood perfectly still, enjoying the feel of his hands sliding down her legs as he stripped her of her jeans. Lifting first one foot, then the other, she was soon clad only in a pair of dark grey knickers, waiting breathlessly to see what Gendry would do next. 

She gasped at the feel of his lips on the back of her calf. “Your legs are glorious,” he murmured, planting kisses on first one, then the other before moving up to chart a path up each thigh. “The way you wrap them so tight around me when I’m fucking you, like you can’t help yourself pulling me deeper.” His hands were gliding over the front of her thighs as he continued the onslaught of kisses on the back, getting higher and higher with each press of his lips. 

Arya was squirming, her thighs squeezing together in an attempt to relieve the throbbing between them. Every touch of his mouth against her was like a live wire, shooting sparks straight to her core. His hands had reached the apex of her thighs, the tips of his fingers just barely touching the lacy grey edge. Behind her, she could feel him hovering right below her ass.

He paused, his breath hot on her skin. “But dear gods, love, your ass.” He leaned in, nuzzling his nose between her cheeks and groaning loudly. “Do you have any idea what your ass does to me? How often I touch myself at the thought of your ass?” 

Gendry’s hands slid around from the front, his fingers curling into the waistband of her knickers. “I was going to tease you,” he said. “I was going to rub your pretty clit through these for hours, until they were ruined with how wet you made them, but fuck if I just can’t wait that long.” And he pulled, yanking her knickers down around her knees before grabbing her ass with both hands, spreading it wide and leaning in to lick a hot, wet stripe up her skin.

Arya’s knees buckled, and she bent forward, crying out loudly as she leaned against the window, the cold of the glass sharp against her burning skin. Gendry’s tongue was magic, lapping against her as she keened at the sensation. 

“Your hands,” she gasped, tilting her hips back. “Use your hands.” 

If she’d had enough presence of mind, she might have thought that he’d forgot his earlier assertion that she needed to beg. Two thick fingers plunged into her, thrusting deeply as continued devouring her from behind. 

Arya’s breaths turned into quick little gasps, her body tightening as her hips ground down against his hand. She could feel it, coiling up inside her and threatening to burst free. Her back arched, her head dropped back, and her eyes clenched tightly shut as she hovered over the precipice, waiting for the inevitable fall. 

But then his hand slowed, and he pulled his mouth off her, pausing to press a quick kiss against her skin before pulling himself to his feet behind her, causing her to whine loudly. Gendry tsked at her. “I haven’t heard any begging yet, love,” he chided, reaching around to pinch a nipple, pulling a moan from her lips. “I believe I told you that you had to beg to come tonight, didn’t I?”

Her cunt was throbbing, almost aching with his denial. She growled in frustration, scowling at him darkly over her shoulder, but he just chuckled before sliding a hand down her torso to rub far too lightly against her clit. Her pelvis jerked forward at his touch, and she could almost hear the smirk in his voice. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while,” he said, biting down on her ear again. “As many as you want. However you want them. I’ll eat you out until you’re screaming. I’ll fuck you until you can’t breathe from coming. I’ll lick your ass until your legs collapse.”

The images his words painted were mouthwatering. She moaned, her head dropping back against his shoulder, and he kissed her gently on the temple. 

“All you have to do, love” he whispered, “is _beg._ ” 

***

His hand was up her cunt again, his fingers fucking her almost just fast enough, but not quite. She’d lost count of how many times he’d brought her to the edge, a breath away from bliss, before lessening the pressure against her clit, slowing the thrusts of his fingers, pulling his hands gently away from her tits, drawing her slowly back from the building release. 

Her thighs were slick with her arousal, and her legs were on the verge of giving out, but his other arm was tight around her waist, holding her against him. Her forehead was resting against the glass, the sharp chill soothing her flushed cheeks as he murmured filthy things in her ear. She could feel it starting to crest again, but then his hand slowed, the wave of pleasure he’d been building easing off yet again as he pulled his fingers from her and slid them up to brush against her clit.

He knew what he was doing, damn him. Never too abrupt in his denial, just a gradual ebbing away of friction, of pressure. Keeping her close without yanking her away. It was an exquisite kind of torture, and it was beginning to overwhelm her. 

Her eyes prickled, and her throat burned. “Gendry,” she said, her voice catching. “Acorn.”

He stilled immediately at her safe word. The grip on her waist relaxed, and his other hand withdrew, dropping to her side. 

“What do you need?” he asked, his voice laced with concern. 

She turned in his arms and dropped to sit heavily on the wide window sill behind her. “I just- I need a minute.” The tightness in her chest was already beginning to loosen. Her eyes closed, and she took several long, slow, deep breaths. In and out. In and out. Her hands clenched on her thighs, and she felt his fingers wrap around hers, grounding her. She opened her eyes to see him kneeling in front of her, worry and love etched on his face. Her chest filled with an entirely different sort of ache as she met his gaze.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, and she shook her head, smiling softly at his sincerity. 

“Not a chance,” she said.

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at her, and she laughed.

“I’ll be fine,” she promised, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Just needed to slow down for a moment.”

Gendry stared at her appraisingly, then nodded and turned to grab the sandwiches and drinks that had been delivered earlier. “Right then,” he said. “Eat now, fuck later.”

***

The food had done her wonders, as had the chance to slow down and catch her breath for a bit. Gendry had pulled his shirt off and put it on her before fetching a towel from the small adjoining bathroom and laying it out on the floor beside them. She sat snugly between his legs as they ate, his hands gently wandering over her skin, just soft enough to keep her arousal simmering but not enough to set it boiling, and by the time they were finished, she was more than ready to pick up where they’d left off.

Arya leaned back to watch him gather up their trash, appreciating the way his skin looked in the moonlight through the window, the way his muscles shifted beneath it as he moved across the tiny space. She cocked her head to the side and let out a low whistle when he bent over to pick the towel up off the floor. He shot her an exaggeratedly sultry glance over his shoulder and wiggled his hips. 

“See something you like?” he drawled, laughing when she lifted her foot to kick at his ass. He winked at her before turning to toss the towel back into the tiny bathroom. 

“Hang on to that,” she said. “Not good manners to leave bodily fluids all over someone else’s furniture and floor.” 

Gendry chuckled, but spread the towel out on the narrow window seat before pulling her to her feet and into his arms again. 

“You good?”

She smiled. “I’m good.”

His eyes darkened, and he spun her around and reached down to pull his shirt over her head. “Good.”

***

Arya’s hands were planted firmly on the glass again as Gendry pressed hot kisses against her shoulder. His were working magic, one between her thighs, the other toying with first one nipple, then the other, pulling moans from her mouth with every tug of his fingers. He hadn’t quite brought her to the edge again, just near enough to know that it wouldn’t take much, a steady friction, a solid pressure, a few deep thrusts of his hand, and she’d be shaking in his arms.

She just had to beg. 

“You ready to give in, love?” he breathed against her neck. “I can hear it in those sounds you make, how much you want to.” He dragged his fingers through her folds again. “Just beg for it, darling. Just-”

He stopped abruptly as the glass in front of them was suddenly awash with lights, the train shuddering to a stop at a crowded platform. She hadn’t even noticed them slowing, and by the tense stillness in Gendry’s hands, the sudden intake of breath, she knew he mustn’t have either.

She was standing in front of a large picture window, completely bare, less than ten feet away from a group of late night travelers. One of Gendry’s hands was hovering over her clit, the other gripping her left tit like it might fly away if he let go. It would almost be comical if not for the thrilled panic coursing through her. 

“Gendry,” she breathed, eyes locked on the couple standing arm in arm in front of her, “they’ll see.”

He jerked slightly at her words, his body coming back to life as his hand drifted down to press against her entrance, the other moving to pinch a nipple. “Mmm. They might,” he said, sounding completely unconcerned as he slipped his fingers inside of her and began lazily thrusting. “Does that bother you, love? That all those people might see me with my hand up your cunt? That anyone out there might see the way you take it so good?” 

His words sent another surge of exhilaration through her. An obscene flush of pleasure at the thought that was almost immediately swept away by the desire to hide, to let no one see her like this but Gendry, which was suppressed almost as quickly with the demand to let them see. Let everyone see. The swirl of conflicting emotions held her paralyzed with doubt. 

Not waiting for an answer, he continued in a more reassuring tone. “But just so you know, they can’t see you. If we turned on the lights, they might see an outline, but these cabins are built for privacy.”

“Are you sure?” 

“Look at them, Arya,” he said, his hand stilling. “The most perfect pair of tits in Westeros is on full display and not a single person on that platform is looking at them. If they could see us, we’d know it.”

She tilted her hips, wordlessly encouraging him to continue as she examined the people on the other side of the glass. Her gaze flitted from one person to the next. The man in the dark brown overcoat staring off into space. The older woman digging through her bag. The three young men likely stumbling home after a night out. There were no wide eyed stares. No scandalized expressions or lecherous gazes. Nothing. 

Gendry was right. They could not see her. They had no idea she was there. No idea that she was being finger fucked behind the glass in front of them. It felt like a deliciously wicked secret, and a fresh wave of needy heat tore through her. She needed him. She ached for him. The feel of him inside her, stretching her, filling her like nothing else.

“Fuck me,” she breathed. “I need you to fuck me.”

His hand paused. “That’s not begging, love,” he scolded, but his voice was strangled, an indication of how much this was affecting him too. 

She smiled. “It’s not,” she conceded, “but I still need you to fuck me, and I think you need to fuck me too.”

Gendry’s fingers slipped out of her, and he took a step back, the heat of him vanishing, leaving an empty chill behind. Arya’s breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to say something, do something. He’d either continue to tease her or he’d fuck the shit out of her. Which one, she wasn’t sure. 

Gendry was silent behind her but for the sound of his ragged breath. It seemed he wasn’t quite sure either. 

“Get up on that seat and lean against the glass,” he said after a long moment. His voice had lost any hint of uncertainty. It was steady, commanding, and it seemed to echo straight through her. She obeyed immediately, practically leaping onto the narrow cushion beneath the window, the towel he’d laid down bunching up beneath her knees as she did. 

It wasn’t a very large seat, just wide enough for her to kneel on and just tall enough to make the difference in their heights inconsequential. Just tall enough that she knew he’d be able to easily slip into her from behind. She bit her lower lip in anticipation as she pressed her flaming face against the glass.

Behind her, she heard the jangle of his belt buckle being undone, the rasp of his zipper lowering, the rustle of his jeans hitting the floor. And then, just as the train began to move again, the lights of the platform fading away as they pulled out of the station, she felt the heat of Gendry’s chest against her back, the hard press of his cock against her ass, and she let out a shuddering sigh as she pushed back against him. 

“Eager girl, aren’t you?” he chuckled into her ear. “You’ve been so good. So patient with me tonight.” He shifted, sliding down and then he was thrusting into her, filling her without warning, and she nearly cried with relief. “You’re almost there, love,” he growled. “You know what you have to do.” His hands were on her tits again, cupping both of them roughly as pushed up into her again and again.

Arya’s head was thrown back against his shoulder, her hands and forearms flat on the glass, bracing herself against his punishing pace. The friction was delicious, but it wasn’t quite enough, and she knew that Gendry knew it. He knew the way to fuck her into oblivion. He knew which angle would set her alight. He knew where to put his hand, how to move it. And he wasn’t doing any of it. 

Unwilling to give in just yet, Arya shifted her left knee slightly and tilted her hips, gasping when the change in angle had the head of his cock dragging against a spot that made her cry out, a ripple of heat echoing through her. She tilted her hips again, chasing it, moaning loudly when she found it.

“Stop that,” he warned, stopping his thrusts and dropping his hands to hold her hips in place. “I told you, Arya,” he said firmly, “I’m not letting you come until you beg, and I haven’t heard any begging yet.”

Frustration coursed through her. Frustration and stubbornness and arousal. She loved Gendry’s dominant side. Loved it when he held her down and fucked her roughly, when he told her in no uncertain terms exactly what he was going to do to her, what she was going to do to him. It set her entire body trembling, with need, with love, with the intensity of the trust they had in each other. She loved it. She truly did. But at times, it frustrated the everloving shit out of her.

His hands tightened around her hips. “You keep that up, love, and I’ll stop. I’ll pull out and make you watch as I jerk myself off.” His voice was rough against her ear. “I’ll come all over your stomach and tits. I’ll rub my come over your nipples, let it dry like that, and then before I go to sleep, I’ll get in my bag, pull out the handcuffs and put your wrists behind your back so you can’t get yourself off. Then in the morning, I’ll do this all over again, and I still won’t let you come.” He jerked up into her, making her groan. “Do I make myself clear?”

He wouldn’t. She knew he wouldn’t. He wasn’t that cruel, but this was the game, and she had wanted to play. So she swallowed and nodded. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

She sighed. “Yes, sir.”

He resumed his movements, slower than before, sliding in and out of her at an utterly maddening pace. “Good girl,” he crooned, his hands gripping her hips. “You’re going to behave for me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“You’re going to let me fuck you as long as I want, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir.”

He started moving faster, the friction making her moan. “You’re going to beg me, aren’t you, love? Beg me to touch you. Beg me to get you off. Beg me to let you come.” 

His hand slid from her hip, down to press against her clit. But not hard enough. Not nearly hard enough. His fingers were almost feather light against it, teasing the sensitive skin and making Arya nearly cry with ache. And she very nearly broke. 

But she could be just as stubborn as he could, and she knew from experience, the longer she held out, the more Gendry rewarded her. So she took a deep breath, pressing her burning skin against the glass for a moment’s relief before giving in to what Gendry wanted. Her body molding with his, moving with him, hips rolling together as he fucked her. 

It was evident that the night’s activities had affected him too because it wasn’t long before she felt the telltale stutter in his hips, heard the heaviness in his breath, sensed the nearness of his release in the grip of his hands.

Knowing he was close spurred a surge of arousal, a tightening of her gut, and she felt her breath catch as the friction of him inside her set her limbs trembling, an orgasm building just out of reach. It was nearly tangible, she was so close. Just another few strokes, a few more thrusts, a moment more and relief would be hers, but then Gendry stilled, buried to the hilt inside her. His breath was hot against her neck, his lustful groan like torture in her ear as she felt his cock pulse within her.

She felt him slump against her, one of his arms sliding from her waist to support himself against the glass as his breathing slowed. His heart was thundering against her back, the rhythm of it reverberating through her, tormenting her.

Gendry turned to nip at her ear, the hand still on her hip moving to brush against her aching clit, his fingers feather light, and she broke.

“Please, Gendry,” she cried, arching into his touch. “Please touch me. Please get me off. For fucks sake, Gendry, please let me come.”

He chuckled against her ear. “Of course, love. All you had to do was ask.” 

The hand against the glass moved to grasp a breast, fingers tugging at her nipple, while the one between her legs started rubbing circles against her clit, and she exhaled in relief as the sensation quickly flooded pleasure through her. He’d had her on the edge for so long, coiled so tightly that she came almost instantly, tightening around his cock as the pulsing waves of heat burst through her, whiting out her vision and turning her knees to jelly. 

He gave her no time at all to recover before he was pulling out of her, his come dripping down her thighs as he spun her around. She was still shaking as he set her down. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he spread her legs wide, and covered her cunt with his mouth. 

He was relentless. Licking and licking and licking. Alternating between gentle flicks and hard, deep swipes of his tongue. Teasing her entrance before moving up to pull her clit into his mouth and humming. 

Her second orgasm crashed over her, rolling through her still trembling body like a tidal wave as she wailed his name, but he didn’t stop. He lifted himself up to capture one of her nipples between his lips, shifting his hands from her thighs to slip two thick fingers into her, plunging them deep into her heat. The other, plucking at the neglected nipple as he worked her over again, mouth and hands in concert, pulling pleasure from her shaking body. 

It came on so quickly, she wasn’t even sure it could be counted as a separate orgasm. Like the sea, they rolled continuously over her, crashing into her before the lingering tremors could fully recede. It was exhilarating. Exhilarating and exhausting. Heart pounding, breath gasping, body trembling from head to toe, she could barely lift her hand to his head, the tug on his ear letting him know she was nearly wrung dry, unable to take much more.

When his hands stilled, and his mouth no longer on her, she was boneless, slumped back against the glass, the chill soothing her heated skin. Arms limp beside her, she forced her eyes open to see him smirking up at her, a self satisfied look on his face. 

“That’s my good girl,” he crooned. “Coming so prettily just for me. Just like I promised.” He raised himself up to press his lips against her forehead, signaling the end of their game, then pulled back to meet her gaze, his eyes soft. “Good?”

She gave one short nod and affirmed, “Good,” before closing her eyes again and exhaling slowly, a thoroughly satisfied calm creeping over her, settling into her and pulling her down into oblivion.

She jolted slightly when she felt him wiping at her thighs with the towel beneath her, opening her eyes to find that he’d pulled out the bed and turned down the covers. His arms slipped around her, lifting her, cradling her against his chest, and she nuzzled into him, pressing a soft kiss to his skin. 

“Do you want anything?” he asked quietly as he gently laid her down on the mattress. “Water? Food?” 

Shaking her head, she grabbed his hand and tugged him down beside her. “Just you,” she mumbled, pulling his arm around her waist and burrowing down as he pulled the covers over them. “Only ever you.”


End file.
